


the big small things

by maguna_stxrk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25246003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maguna_stxrk/pseuds/maguna_stxrk
Summary: “My poor baby. Let’s get you to bed, huh? I think you could use some sleep.”“But I don’t want to move.”“I know you don’t, but you’ll be a lot more comfortable in bed, okay?”“With you?” Steve asks hopefully.“Yes, Sir. With me,” Tony says, easy as anything, as if Steve’s headache took obvious precedence over all of his work plans for the day—the weapon upgrades he has to do, the meetings he has to attend, and all the investors he has to charm.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 205





	the big small things

“Ugh, just kill me,” Steve mutters, lying on the couch and burying his face in Tony’s stomach. 

Steve would feel bad interrupting Tony’s work—Tony has been on and off the phone for hours and whatever is on that tablet in his hands must be Very Important—but he is in the middle of battling a ruthless bout of migraine. He wants nothing more than to lie down and close his eyes, preferably with his husband within arm’s reach.

“And yet you come to the one person you know is _definitely_ incapable of ending your life.” Steve feels Tony’s fingers threading through his hair and already he feels some of the pain melting away. 

“It’s not that hard,” Steve grumbles into Tony’s shirt. “You’re a genius, I’m sure you could figure something out.”

Tony snorts. “I hope you know I’m being a hundred percent serious when I say I would literally rather die.”

At that, Steve gives a reproachful hum. “You’re not allowed to die before me.”

_“You’re_ not allowed to die before me,” Tony counters. His hand wanders down to Steve’s right ear, worrying gently at his earlobe. “What’s wrong, honey bunches?”

“I have the worst headache,” Steve says miserably, inhaling lungfuls of Tony’s comforting scent through his nose. 

“You want me to go get you some meds?”

“Had some. Still hurts.” 

“My poor baby. Let’s get you to bed, huh? I think you could use some sleep.” Steve hears the distinct click of the tablet being locked. Tony leans forward, setting the gadget down on the coffee table.

“But I don’t want to move.”

“I know you don’t, but you’ll be a lot more comfortable in bed, okay?” Tony says, his thumb caressing the back of Steve’s neck. 

“With you?” Steve asks hopefully. 

Steve knows that Tony is very busy with work. Steve also knows that he is being selfish. Still, he can’t help the stubborn flicker of hope that maybe—

“Yes, Sir. With me,” Tony says, easy as anything, as if Steve’s headache took obvious precedence over all of his work plans for the day—the weapon upgrades he has to do, the meetings he has to attend, and all the investors he has to charm. 

Again, Steve would feel guilty if he weren’t too busy relishing the rush of relief running through him at Tony’s promise. 

When Steve sits up, the movement sends a sharp pain shooting through his head. The previous pounding behind his skull returns just seconds later, continuing persistently like a silent tattoo. Squeezing his eyes shut, he cradles his head with a low groan.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Tony leans in to press a kiss to his temple before standing up, offering a hand to Steve. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Steve accepts his hand, letting Tony lead him up to the master bedroom and into their bed. Tony fluffs his pillow for him before sitting him down on the bed. 

“You get comfy. I’ll be back in a minute, need to get something in the kitchen,” Tony whispers, taking both of Steve’s cheeks in his hands and giving him a quick peck on the lips.

Steve is not proud of it, but he does frown petulantly at the thought of being left alone. Tony gives him a small smile in return, one that is less bright but much more genuine than the one reserved for the press and flashing cameras.

It never fails to warm Steve to his core.

Squishing his cheeks together, Tony leans down once again to plant another feather-light kiss on the tip of Steve’s nose before walking away and disappearing out the door. In the meantime, Steve tries to do as told, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to ease the pain. 

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he opens his eyes when he hears Tony’s footsteps approaching him. Tony is carrying a mug of something steaming. Very gingerly, he hands it to Steve. Upon holding the warm mug in his hands, Steve recognizes the liquid for what it is: green tea.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

Tony detests tea. In fact, he makes his distaste of the beverage abundantly clear to all and sundry, often proclaiming loudly of coffee’s superiority over it. Tony also knows, however, that Steve loves to have a cup of it every morning. Ever since Steve moved into his floor, he has kept a seemingly never-ending stock of the stuff in the penthouse kitchen.

Blowing on the hot drink before taking a cautious sip, Steve lets the tea’s warmth provide brief but very much needed relief from the pain. 

“Jarvis, draw the curtains shut and turn down the lights, will you?” Tony says, slipping into bed beside Steve.

The lights dim to a gentle yellow and there is a quiet whirring as the curtains are closed, preventing any sunlight from streaming in.

Tony sits beside him quietly, fingers drumming an uneven beat on Steve’s thigh as Steve finishes the mug of tea in gentle sips. Once he is done, he sets the empty mug on the nightstand and slips under the covers. He inches closer to Tony, letting Tony’s thighs pillow his head.

“Better, sweetheart?”

Steve nods, blinking up at Tony. Brown doe eyes blink back at him. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome. Now go to sleep,” Tony says, voice hushed, fingers tracing unidentifiable shapes into Steve’s sideburn. 

“Tell me a story?” 

“A story?” Tony hums in thought. “Okay. So, when I was little, there was this huge tree in the backyard of one of my family’s vacation homes, right?”

Steve hums, urging him to continue. He lets Tony’s low and soothing voice wash over him, his eyelids growing heavy. 

“I think it was in Tuscany? I’ll take you there sometime, darling. You’ll love it. So, one day, I climbed up to the top of this tree because I got curious and wanted to see the view of the neighborhood from up there. And— Come on, you know me. A curious Tony is a dangerous Tony and all that. I think I must’ve been about eight or nine years old.”   


All the while, Tony runs his fingers through Steve’s hair repeatedly in slow and gentle strokes.

Steve closes his eyes and takes the time to send a silent thanks to the universe for granting him the privilege of being loved by such a wonderful human being. Not for the first time, Steve finds himself wondering just what he has done to deserve Tony as his life partner.

He used to feel sorry for whoever his future spouse would be—a thought that plagued his mind whenever he had to watch his mother worry herself sick and stay up late at night to help him fight his raging fevers. He remembers feeling uncertain as to whether he would ever settle down with someone, uncomfortable with the thought of having to subject his partner to the task of taking care of his sickly self for the rest of their lives. 

He didn’t even know if he would be able to find someone willing to do so.

And yet here is Tony, letting himself be pulled away from work in the middle of the day to take care of Steve. Tony, who has held him through countless nightmares and sleepless nights without a word of complaint. Tony, who acts like taking care of Steve is something he genuinely enjoys and takes pride in, instead of treating it as the extra work that it is. One of the things Steve has learned throughout his relationship with Tony is to convince himself to not be afraid of ever becoming a burden, at least not to Tony—something Tony continues to remind him of every single day. 

Steve is no futurist; he has no guesses or conjectures as to what the future may hold for him. Whatever happens in the future, though, he knows this much:

He may not have gotten a lot of things right in his lifetime, but at least he did one thing right—marrying Tony Stark is the one decision he knows he will never regret. 

Tony is his one constant, the one sure thing he believes in with the kind of fierce conviction that settles deep within his heart and thrums through his bones.

With his eyes still shut, Steve reaches up to take the hand that has been combing through his hair. He presses a grateful kiss to the inside of Tony’s palm before holding the hand in his. 

Tony squeezes his hand and continues to talk, voice not once faltering.

Steve loves him so much his heart aches with it.

“...Suddenly, I heard Jarvis calling me from down below. He was all ‘Come down here before you get hurt!’ and I was afraid of getting into trouble, so I just stayed there, perched up on the tree. But then…”

Steve doesn’t get to hear the end of the story, but he does get to drift off into a very pleasant dream of smiles, laughter, and warm hugs smelling of coffee, lavender, and metal.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr [@maguna-stxrk](https://maguna-stxrk.tumblr.com/) and let's talk all things stevetony! :)


End file.
